The Danville News/Daily Item

Robert John Andrews

1 October, 2026

“Foliage”

Word Cout: 750

 

Out here the west is turning yellow.  Enticed locals drive into the mountains to admire the colors of nature.  Color actually.  Unlike you folks in Pennsylvania, what we boast is aspen yellow, blankets of aspen gold.  Police issue tickets for the crowds who park when and where they shouldn’t. 

 

It’s beautiful, yet we miss the vibrant colors of Pennsylvania.  There are here spotty regions home to some deciduous species, but as the Colorado State Forest website reports:  “Colorado’s major tree species include bristlecone pine, blue spruce, Douglas-fir, Engelmann spruce, limber pine, lodgepole pine, narrowleaf cottonwood, quaking aspen, piñon pine, plains cottonwood, ponderosa pine, Rocky Mountain juniper, subalpine fir and white fir.”

 

We’re green and yellow.  So why is Colorado called Colorado?  Colored red.  More for the rocks and silt of the Colorado River than for the foliage, thanks to Spanish explorers. 

 

You there along the Susquehanna, as once I encouraged, please cherish your trees.  Most of the world never will see such leaves you see painting the hills of the Susquehanna valley.  You are privileged, especially come autumn.  You belong to a rare club to which eastern North America belongs, plus a smattering of other select places in the world.  You belong to the club of the temperate deciduous forest where you find the pattern and rhythm of four seasons, along with abundant enough rainfall and temperatures moderating from hot to cold. 

 

The temperate deciduous forest. 

 

You.  Not us here in intemperate western U.S.  Not Central or South America, except tips way south.  Not Russia.  Not the Mideast.  Not most of China.  Not Australia, except a sliver along the coast. Not Africa.  Not Micronesia.  Neither the Arctic nor Antarctic.  They offer their own natural gifts.  But only you of the temperate deciduous forest where seasons of snow, bloom, harvest, and falling leaves offer a pattern of adaptation and change, diversity and abundance, new life every spring.  Dormant autumn, soon enough awakens and makes way for the new, for new growth;  no tedious reincarnation this but transformation, entirely new leaves.  Change inevitable. 

 

You belong to the temperate deciduous forest, a region of nature’s moderation where you usually avoid suffering longish durations of either cold or heat.  You alone celebrate this shedding time of ‘we all fall down,’ in these forests blessed by the variety of oak, beech, elm, maple, lest we take it all for granted.  Lest we forget how these gifts and blessings are meant to be a blessing and gift to others, where foliage’s diversity can be appreciated. 

 

We can learn from our trees what it means to be human. 

 

Mid-August we traveled and spent a week with our California grandchildren to help out with their first week of school.  Mom and Dad needed drop off and pick up help as well as keeping them busy in the afternoon. 

 

The kids lined up by class, places marked by bookbags.  Dozens of languages could be heard.  A variety of garbs.  It’s a rich playground palette.  What a blessing for our grandchildren to encounter such differences gathered in eager unity.  Childhood foliage on display in all its glory and color.  Their principal came out, delivered the announcements, then gave shout-outs for birthdays and achievements. 

 

The kids love it when Principal Dr. Tri Wen calls out their name.  It’s personal. 

 

Later, I asked our grandchildren the names of their friends.  They mentioned Mateo, Kai, Nova, Cruz, Emeliano, Arthur, Jake, Amaya, Bianca, Hallard.  Parents stood in the corner on ICE watch. 

 

Our kindergartener taught me two things that trip.  First was when he was working on a jigsaw puzzle.  It started off slow and cautious, fitting the pieces one by one, trial and error, framing the puzzle by finding the corners and edge pieces.  Funny thing about puzzles, for as the puzzle made more sense with fewer pieces, it came together faster and faster.  Like life.

 

Second was my grandpa tendency to correct him.  Clear your plate, wait till all are served.  Critical me, correcting, carping over what I judged as oppositional misbehavior.  I overheard him mentioning how his Ah-pa (me) didn’t like him.  Personal.  So, I tried to act less scolding and more encouraging, less antagonizing.  Better is to appreciate rather than reprimand him, control him.  Makes sense, lots of sense for Grandpas, parents, teachers, nations.  Imagine if we treated others the way we want to be treated.

 

Wouldn’t it be a surprising wonder if we appreciated the diversity of humanity’s tapestry as much as we appreciated the manifold foliage of trees.